


Let's twist again

by SweetPollyOliver



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alien Cultural Differences, Alien Gender/Sexuality, F/F, Internalised Homophobia, Kira yells at her feelings (and Quark), Kira's big gay panic, Lesbian Kira, Occupation of Bajor, Post-Canon, Sexuality Crisis, Trauma, compulsory heterosexuality, osol twists as a metaphor for sapphic desire, situational homosexuality (which may have been less situational than originally assumed), with a side journey into Ferengi world building because this is who I am mom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 13:58:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7441897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetPollyOliver/pseuds/SweetPollyOliver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kira is forced into some very reluctant self reflection after her unexpectedly strong reaction to Kimara Cretak coming back to the station gives her a little pause.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's twist again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kimaracretak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimaracretak/gifts).



> My Trek Rarepair Swap fic for kimaracretak.
> 
> A thousand thank yous to death-star510, starstarship, and katiemariie for giving me so much help with editing this and to jazzypizzaz for suggesting the reason for why Cretak is back on the station. If any of you would like to be credited with a different nomme d'interweb let me know.
> 
> Content warnings: it is stated, non-graphically, that Kira and other members of her Resistance cell were rape survivors; there is some in-character casual cissexism.

Kira had seen Cretak's name on the list of delegates weeks previously and she hadn't registered so much as a single twinge or flutter at the time other than the mild surprise that Sen- that Kimara Cretak was not only still alive, but was working for the Romulan government again albeit in a significantly less senior role than when she had served on the Imperial senate. 

But seeing her step out of the airlock, the bottom of Kira's stomach dropped out and she could suddenly feel her pulse hammering in her ears. 

Cretak was little more sallow and frail looking than when she'd seen her last. Her cheekbones, especially, seemed more pronounced. A few months in a Romulan prison would do that, Kira supposed. Cretak wouldn't want to be pitied, but she couldn't help but feel a sudden stab of empathy.

She didn't have to acknowledge Cretak personally beyond the terse nod she gave in her direction, as she was not the senior diplomat on this mission. Instead she focused her attention on the ambassador—a new position, the Romulan ambassador to Bajor—which was both easier and far more appropriate.

“Ambassador, welcome to Deep Space Nine,” she said through a stiff smile.

*

Some considerable time later, after several hours of deeply frustrating polite nothings, she was walking the Romulan party back their quarters, steadfastly ignored her impending stress headache and her hyper-awareness of the set of footsteps just behind her own all the while.

She and the ambassador exchanged some more ambiguously phrased and largely meaningless niceties and then they were finally going into the suite and she all she could think was that she was _free_. If she had to be diplomatic for another five minutes she was sure that her head would actually explode.

As she turned to go, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned around and found herself face to face with Kimara Cretak. She was backlit by the light coming from the rooms beyond, but then the doors behind them to the ambassador's suite slid closed behind her and, quite suddenly, they were alone in the empty corridor.

“I just wanted to say that it is good to see you again, Colonel,” Cretak said.

“I-,” Kira swallowed. Her mouth was dry all of a sudden and her brain blank. “Thank you. I'm glad to see that you're in good health.” 

“I hope you don't mind the liberty,” Cretak said, either unaware of any awkwardness or unwilling to acknowledge it. “But I brought you something.”

“Oh?” Kira was barely aware of her head drifting closer to Cretak's and her voice dropping.

It could be anything that she was being 'brought'. Cretak might have turned against the Romulans in prison and be bringing her intelligence about their intentions here, maybe in exchange for some kind of amnesty. However questionable overtures of friendship from Romulus had been during the war, they were even more so now; she would not be the least bit surprised if this visit had a hidden agenda.

Or maybe she was getting ahead of herself. It could just be some kind of cultural gift, symbol of the renewed friendship between their worlds, etc., etc.

But surely that would be given with some degree of ceremony, not in some darkened corridor like a stolen kiss between children out after the curfew, whispering so they wouldn't get caught.

Cretak reached out and took her hand. Kira's face remained carefully impassive, but she was sure that Cretak would be able to feel her pulse racing as her fingers brushed the inside of her wrist. She heard the crinkle of plastic as something hard was placed into her hand. She looked down, tearing her eyes away from Cretak's.

“An osol twist,” Cretak said.

“Oh,” Kira replied, not sure quite what else she could say. She could feel her blood rush up her neck and starting to pool in her cheeks, but it would be too dark for a blush to be visible.

“If you recall, I thought before that you might like them,” Cretak said. “You should let me know what you think.”

And with that she turned back and walked into the ambassadorial suite, leaving Kira alone in the corridor clutching a screw shaped Romulan confection wrapped in green plastic. Her fist tightened around it and crinkled the wrapping.

Her head really was killing her.

*

“You have a migraine,” Dr. Bashir said matter of factly.

“I could have told you that,” Kira said. She was bent over double with her forehead resting on her knees, the sides of her head pounding.

“Would you say you've been under any unusual stress lately?”

She laughed under her breath and winced slightly.

“Gee, what would I have to be stressed about?”she said.

“Point taken,” he replied. He pressed a hypospray against her neck.“Well I've given you a painkiller. It'll take a couple of minutes to kick in, so in the mean time I'll try to ameliorate your symptoms with some therapeutic massage. And after that I really would recommend that you try and get some sleep.”

“Thanks for the tip,” she said halfheartedly as he guided her into a more upright position and took her head between his hands.

“How did you find the Romulans?” he asked in that infuriating way of his that he used when he thought he was being sly.

“Fine,” she replied shortly.

“I saw that Kimara Cretak was with them.”

“Don't remind me,” Kira said.

“I'm just relieved to see I didn't get her killed!” Julian said. “I've had more than a few sleepless nights thinking about what happened to her because I tried to do what I thought was best.”

“Well, she seems to have landed on her feet,” Kira said. “I suppose that she knows the station, and us, for that matter, well enough that she's too much of an asset to throw away.”

“Or they brought her here to punish her,” Julian replied. “Maybe that's more shameful to a proud Romulan patriot than a clean execution would be. I can't imagine it's a treat to be brought here as a subordinate and paraded around in front of us.”

“I don't think she's suffering all that much,” Kira said archly. “She seemed downright casual when she kept me back after I'd dropped them all off at their quarters. She wanted to give me a present—from her to me personally, I mean, not an official gift from Romulus to Bajor. It's a- uh, it's something called an osol twist. I think it's something Romulan children eat. Anyway, like I said, not exactly the actions of a person marinating in shame at the mere fact of being here. I think she's trying to get under my skin.”

“Possibly.” Julian said. “But it is also entirely possible it was just a present.”

“It was something she'd recommended when she was here before. I saw her eating a jumja stick, she saw me smile, and then we had a perfectly pleasant interaction about sweets. I always figured afterwards that it was just part of her shtick to butter me up so I would give my recommendation to the council of ministers to let the Romulans set up their 'medical facility' on Derna. I have no idea why she'd want to _remind_ me of that.”

“Reminds me of Garak,” Julian said, almost fondly. “I was always driving myself crazy trying to figure out what his hidden motives were when he'd say something out of the ordinary or do some little thing that threw me off. I think he did it for sport half the time.”

“Well I don't think that the Romulans are keeping Cretak on a string like the Cardassians did with Garak,” Kira said. “And if they are I'd rather she didn't try to unbalance me for her kicks. She should find some kid with a head full of spy stories who _likes_ obsessing over mixed messages and subtext.”

“Ouch,” Julian took a hand from her temple to clutch at his heart, which was undermined slightly by his crooked smile. “But for all it's worth, Nerys, I really don't think Cretak _is_ toying with you. For all that she has been less than forthright about Romulus' intentions in the past, I don't think she's the type to bait you just for the hell of it. Sometimes an osol twist is just an osol twist.”

“Right,” Kira said with a half smile back. “Well, anyway, I think that painkiller's starting to kick in. Thanks, Julian.” 

“Good,” he replied. “Now get out of here and go to bed! I don't care what paperwork you have to do or how many bets Quark has been taking on his newest scheme”

“What newest scheme?”

“Colonel, I really do think-”

“No, you're right, you're right. I'm going to bed before I start to give myself another migraine. I don't care what Quark's been up to.”

*

“Quark!”

The Ferengi bartender was counting out a fairly meagre pile of latinum on a table towards the back of the bar.

“Colonel Kira, what a lovely surprise!” he said, standing up suddenly and smoothing out his waistcoat. “But I'm afraid the bar is closed.”

“What's this I hear about you running a book? Did I or did I not make it _quite clear_ what would happen if I caught you at this again?”

“Well I'm hearing a whole lot of accusation and not a lot of proof,” Quark said as he oiled around the table to stand next to her. “ _If_ I were-”

Kira lost patience and grabbed him by the lapels.

“Ah! Don't rip this, it's new!”

“Give me an excuse, Quark, I am in no mood.”

“I haven't done anything! So maybe stop with all the manhandling? Unless you just wanted an excuse to come in here and our relationship is about to change forever, in which case-”

“Ugh,” she let him go and he wriggled away and fussed with his jacket.

“So what is the problem?” he asked. “You really are angry. You're not just putting it on this time; I have a whole seam with loose stitches here. And it really _isn't_ anything I've done this time, so what is it?”

“It's nothing,” she said, a little embarrassed. “I’m going, but don’t think I don’t have my eye on you.”

“Is it the Romulans?” he leaned towards her and raised his brow ridges expectantly.

“I said it's nothing!” she snapped. Quark nodded once and started towards the bar.

“I'm getting you a bottle of springwine,” he said decisively.

“I thought you said you were closed,” she called after him.

“What are closing times between old friends? And don't worry about money,” he called back over his shoulder. “You can pay me back later.”

“How generous,” she muttered.

When he came back he gingerly placed a hand on her shoulder in such a way that he could snatch it back easily and urged her into a seat. He then sat down across from her and put the bottle and two glasses between them on the table. “Now why don't you tell your uncle Quark _aaall_ about it.”

Kira snorted under her breath and leaned back in her chair, but she took the glass after he had filled it and offered it to her.

“I sincerely hope you never talk to Nog in that tone of voice.”

“You're being evasive,” Quark said. “Which is fine, if that's what you want, I'll take that over being yelled at, but I think you'll feel better talking about it instead of getting angry at me to blow off steam.”

Kira took a long draught of spring wine. “It is the Romulans. I don't like this whole… game. Spending hours talking and talking about the most inane drivel, never getting to the point, and no one ever says that we both know that it's all so much theatre. It's so indirect and… stupid.”

“Well diplomacy never was your strong suit,” Quark agreed. “But that's it? Maybe seven years ago I'd buy that, but you know your way around a political innuendo at this point.”

“Thank you for not dragging your use of the word innuendo into some kind of hideous come on,” Kira said around the rim of her glass as she drank more springwine.

“You're being evasive again.”

“And you're being tedious again,” Kira replied. “But fine, it's not _just_ that. It's that… they've brought Cretak with them. And I have no idea what to make of her being here. Julian thinks the Romulans are trying to humiliate her, I can't help but think that they're trying something funny and she's supposed to… I don't know distract me, or confuse me. It wouldn't be the first time that she's manipulated me for Romulus' interests. But I just… I don't know what to think.”

“It seems to me like you could fairly neatly sidestep these hypothetical plans by _not_ obsessing over why she's here,” Quark said.

“I don't even know why I'm having such a strong reaction to seeing her again,” Kira tipped her head back in frustration. “I was perfectly capable of working with her for months after that whole mess on Derna. And after I found out that she had been arrested my only thought at the time was that it was a shame for the war effort to lose her, because for all that I didn't trust her I still- I don't even know what I'm trying to say. I'm just so _angry_ and I don't know why!”

“Sounds a lot like kids who pull each other’s lobes and then push each other down and run away, because they have a crush.” Quark said. “Are you sure you don't just like her?” 

“You're a pig,” Kira said. 

“Why am I a pig?” Quark shuffled back defensively to avoid the kick she'd aimed under the table in his direction. “You know, quite separate from the subgenre of holosuite programs loosely based around the same premise, there are, in fact, women who are attracted to other women? I'm sure you've encountered the phenomenon, Resistance woman.”

Kira stopped playfully kicking at Quark's ankles and felt the colour drain from her face. Resistance woman. Said in this very specific sickeningly jocular way. It wasn't a term anyone in the Resistance had ever used. It was something people who had never been through what they'd been through bandied around as a joke. 

Oh those Resistance fighters! They're all the same to each other in the dark. Yeah, hilarious.

“You don't know what you're talking about,” Kira said coldly. She went to stand up only for Quark to grab her wrist. “If you know what's good for you you'll let go of me now.”

“Look, I'm sorry,” he said releasing her wrist and holding both his hands up in surrender. “I didn't mean to… I don't know, make light of the Resistance. I just meant that I wasn't just taking the opportunity to be sleazy, astonishing as that seems, and I know you know it's not all flimsy outfits and long fingernails and giggling. For a variety of reasons, including but not limited to what people say about how it was in the Resista-”

“Well it was different then!” Kira said. “People make those stupid jokes about it now, all knowing and smug, but they never think about it for more than the two seconds it takes to sneer. More than half of us had been raped by Cardassian soldiers and we couldn't stand letting a man touch us even if he was our comrade and we knew we could trust him and besides that _none_ of us wanted to get pregnant. And the way we lived - staying up all night, waiting to go out on a raid—not knowing if you were going to be alive the next day and if you were then who wouldn't be? We barely had the luxury of mourning when we'd lost someone so we had to take every single moment while we were still alive. And it was just… it was different.”

She sat back down heavily and poured herself another glass of springwine.

“Look, I do know what it's like to- to- but that doesn't mean- I. After the Occupation ended I- I don't know, things just went back to normal. And eventually I realised I wasn't that kid who had nothing in the world but her Resistance cell, a disruptor rifle and a million ways she could die before sunrise anymore and I- actually, you know what, I don't have to explain myself to you.”

Neither of them said anything for a while.

“You ever think about the title _Oo-Mox For Fun and Profit_?” Kira felt a bubble of rage start to surge up through her, but before she could say anything Quark held up a finger and continued. “Or how about Rule of Acquisition 113? 'Always have sex with the boss.' I mean… think about _that_ for more than two seconds.”

It didn't even really take two seconds. Until very recently who had made up the entire paid Ferengi workforce?

“Ah.”

“You've got it,” Quark said. “Sooo, in the context of a subordinate and a superior, sex between males is, or was anyway, very normal on Ferenginar. Greasing palms, putting in extra hours, networking, frelking. It's all in the young upwardly mobile Ferengi's skill set when he's climbing the corporate ladder. But that's the only way it's 'normal' for males to have sex with other males on Ferenginar.”

“I... see?” 

“Males can be in love with other males too. In fact it's seen as a little vulgar to actually be _in love_ with your wife, but it's entirely orthodox for a man to be the great love of your life. You can even make him your heir and if you die before him he'd marry your wife and look after your children and your business interests as his own. That's all very normal. But you know what's not normal?”

“What?” 

“Sleeping with him. On Ferenginar, sex between equals is a contradiction in terms. Someone is always debased by the act—and why would you want to debase someone you loved? No. You love him and you have sex with your wife. And any underlings who want to suck up to the boss, if you're privileged enough to be in that situation in life.”

“Delightful,” Kira said. “And?”

“ _And_ I'm just saying that if, hypothetically, someone was a male Ferengi who wanted to have sex with other males in something other than a quid pro quo arrangement, maybe even to love other males and have sex with them… it'd maybe be harder for that someone to even let himself think outside of the boxes he was used to. So maybe he wouldn't notice himself thinking 'I like his smile' or 'he smells so damp.' It'd all be 'how would this help my career?' And if the answer to that was 'well it wouldn't' then maybe he'd get frustrated and angry for no reason he could pinpoint. Maybe grab people and yell at them about betting pools on specious evidence, I really couldn't say.” 

“I see,” Kira said as witheringly as she could muster. But it was hard to be too severe with him, given how all this was implied to relate back to him personally. And really it was just like him to use a glimmer of vulnerability to avoid people getting angry with him.

Quark shrugged. “Well it was just a thought.”

Neither of them said anything else for another little while. Eventually though something occurred to Kira.

“Out of curiousity, what about Ferengi women?” Kira asked. “How does that usually..?”

“Honestly?” Quark said. “I have no idea. I mean, conventional wisdom is that females don't experience sexual pleasure at all and they only find fulfillment in raising children and caring for their husband's needs, so it wouldn't make sense for two females to be involved like that. But my first actual exposure to that first set of ideas was my mother laughing about them with her sister, so I think it's pretty safe to assume conventional wisdom is as wrong about females as it is about males.”

“Yeah, I'll bet,” she snorted. “I suppose things are probably easier to figure out now though.”

“Well… yes and no, most likely,” Quark said. “On paper things are definitely easier. But people change more slowly than laws. And it was never _illegal_. Just… taboo.”

“And taboos are harder to break than laws,” Kira said.

“Exactly.”

“Well…” Kira got up again. “On that cheerful note, thank you for the springwine, Quark. And the… insight into your charming culture. But I have a station to run in the morning, so I'll have to cut this short.”

“Any time you need someone to rough up, you know where I am,” Quark gave her a little wave and a barely perceptible shoulder shimmy and then started to pour the remainder of Kira's glass back into the bottle.

“You're not going to water that up to a full bottle again, reseal it, and sell it at full price, are you?” she asked.

“Of course not!” Quark said. “No, this is purely for my personal use. I just didn't want to waste any. I do love this vintage.”

Kira rolled her eyes as she was going, but she smiled a little too.

*

The rest of the week passed relatively smoothly. And if Kira was struck down by any more rogue headaches in her dealings with the Romulan delegation, well, the whole party would be relocating to the new Romulan embassy on Bajor within days.

But while it was certainly wise to remain dubious of Romulus' apparent desire to remain allies, her conspiracy theories about Cretak were starting to feel a little ridiculous now with the benefit of a little breathing space. The Romulans' intelligence strategy could hardly _hinge_ on Cretak's ability to bat her eyelashes in a sufficiently confusing way.

Quark's thinly disguised speculations about Kira, on the other hand, were not as easy to put to bed.

It was not something she felt comfortable with even thinking about, but now that it had been suggested she felt powerless not to. It was like a wobbly tooth after a blow to the jaw that she didn't want to knock loose, but couldn't stop nudging at.

Her… she wouldn't even call them relationships, so much as _experiences_ with women had always felt like they belonged within the context of a before and an after and that she was living in the after. Without the context that had led to them in the first place, she hadn't thought that they formed a natural part of her make up.

It wasn't that there hadn't been any emotional feelings involved; there had been a lot of love… but it had felt like a different kind of love to romance, as she thought of it. It wasn't the way her father had loved her mother or the way Lupaza had eventually come to love Furel (and Kira would not think about how she'd felt the first time she realised this—how she'd been holding Lupaza in her arms and teasing her about liking Furel when she'd realised, in the middle of a laugh, while looking down at Lupaza as she groaned in mock frustration and turned her head to hide a real smile and blush that _she really did love him_ … how her insides had felt like ice even as Lupaza had pulled her down for another hungry kiss).

It was hard to put into words without sounding a little ridiculous. But to her…. 

During the Occupation there were these tragic, yearning love songs that would be sung all over the planet, every day, by people of every age and gender. They were all about a beautiful woman in some kind of trouble—sometimes she was dying, sometimes she was sick, sometimes she had been locked away by her awful, brutal uncle—who the singer promised to honour and cherish forever even if he never saw her again. Every Cardassian who heard these songs thought that the Bajorans wouldn't know a good love song if it hit them over the head and every Bajoran knew that the woman was Bajor. 

And it had felt like that.

She had loved them because they were fighting for Bajor with her and because their lives were so hard, so dark, and they needed to cling to each other to avoid losing themselves completely to the violence of their existence. She loved them because loving them was the only way she could show love to Bajor that wasn't bloody, other than the endless stream of whispered prayers for the dead dripping from her lips (clumsy lips stumbling over the ancient Bajoran she'd learnt as a child from vedeks in hiding, who'd been brave enough to teach her because they loved Bajor too, clumsy lips and a harsh mouth no better suited to prayer than to gentle words and kisses, but oh, oh, she had to try).

And as significant as it had been, she'd thought that it had been, well… a part of the situation she had been in. It wasn't that it had felt like a _phase_ or something at the time, or that she'd anticipated moving on from it, but she hadn't exactly anticipated living long enough to see a free Bajor either. She'd lived in the moment rather than looking towards any kind of future for herself.

But then the Occupation ended… and so had the situation.

And on a free Bajor, where the population had been decimated and the provisional government was so desperate to see people settle down and start families that they were trying to give out incentives for young childbearing couples to get married and start replenishing the population, it had felt natural, to want to _try_ and face her issues with men head on rather than to keep hiding from them by fulfilling her needs for intimacy and closeness with women as an indefinite stop-gap. To… grow up, or something and adjust to a new phase of her life. Be someone with a future instead of someone who might die at any time. Someone who'd have a _family_. Even if the adjustment was easily more terrifying than anything she'd done in the Resistance.

Learning to be with men, to be touched by men without wanting to flinch, to _invite_ touch… she'd thought what she was doing was healing. But maybe she'd just been finding a new way to hurt herself that wasn't all that different to how she'd been hurt by Cardassians who hadn't thought she had a right to say no. That wasn't easy to think about.

Granted 'yes women' didn't mean 'no men' necessarily; it _was_ very possible for a person to like both—both and more besides! She hadn't been friends with Dax for this long not to know that. But for some reason she felt like, for her, it was one or the other.

She didn't know which was more scary to her.

*

“Colonel.”

Kira looked up from her lunch to see the catalyst of her many recent forays into self examination smiling at her faintly and holding a tray with a plate of hasperat and a bowl holding a thick wedge of moba fruit. She forced herself to smile back, affecting as untroubled an expression as she could.

“Cr- hello!” she said, stumbling over her words. She raised a napkin to her lips and looked down to buy a little time and rehearse something inoffensive to say. “I didn't see you there.”

“I just came in,” Cretak said, still standing very straight and proper and making no overtures towards joining her at her table. “I wanted to see you before we left… to convey the ambassador's thanks for being such a hospitable host. And my own.”

“Please, don't stand on ceremony, sit down,” Kira gestured to the seat opposite her while her cheeks heated. Her blush would be a lot more obvious in the harsh artificial lighting of the Replimat than it had been the last time they'd spoken. “And thank you. To you and to the ambassador.”

Quite contrary to Kira's fond hopes that Cretak _would_ stand on ceremony and refuse the offer, she put her tray down on the table and began to sit down.

Kira's gaze dropped a little to Cretak's plate and small side bowl as she took them off the tray and transferred them to the table.

“Good thing you like Bajoran food; I imagine you'll be eating a lot of it once you get planetside. Bajor's food scene doesn't extend much beyond our own culture. Yet, anyway,” she said.

“I developed a taste for it while I was on DS9 before,” Cretak said. “The relative ease of eating a lot of Bajoran food without implements is very appealing to the busy politician.”

“Or the busy diplomat,” Kira said. An almost pained look flashed across Cretak's face very briefly before disappearing. It had only really shown in her eyes.

“Indeed,” Cretak smiled, a little stiffly, and ducked her head. “My mouth forgets more easily what my mind finds all too hard to.”

“I'm sorry,” Kira said, softly now.

“Don't be,” Cretak rebuffed firmly. “My current position is infinitely preferable to the one I quitted in favour of it. I do not need anyone to be sorry for me. However slowly my inflexible nature adapts to its new situation.”

“Right.”

Kira wondered if she should try to convey Julian's regret over what had happened to her, or if that would be another way of rubbing salt in the wound. She knew well enough not to probe any further about Cretak's situation immediately before being drafted into the Romulan diplomatic corps. If she were Bajoran, if they knew each other better she might have, but… no. 

“But returning to your earlier observation about food—I'm told that the embassy has Romulan replicators installed, so I will have the food of both our worlds at my disposal when we arrive on the planet.”

“Well that's good,” Kira said. “Having a piece of home.”

“Indeed,” Cretak raised an eyebrow. “But I must say, nothing on Romulus can equal moba fruit.”

“I mean personally I don't think anything in the Alpha Quadrant can equal moba fruit,” Kira smiled widely. “But I didn't want to say. Comes across a bit culturally supremacist.”

“Without having sampled all the fruit in the quadrant, I am willing to at least provisionally support that assertion,” Cretak smiled back, more warmly than before. “Tell me, Colonel, in order to stave off any accusations that you unfairly malign the foods of other worlds, did you ever try the osol twist?”

“Not yet,” she confessed, feeling her blush re-emerging. “I guess I've been saving it.”

“Oh?” Cretak asked.

“Well if it turned out I really liked it, it's not like I can just go off to Romulus to get another any time soon.”

“You don't have to go to Romulus,” Cretak said. “I'd be happy to give you the replicator pattern. Or… you could visit me on Bajor. If you really liked it.”

“To use your replicator instead of mine,” Kira laughed.

“Well I'd be happy to entertain you while you were there,” Cretak said, still smiling. “Like I said… I did want to see you again before we left. I was waiting for you to come to me to talk, actually, but we haven't a lot of time left for me to be playing coy. But if you really feel the replicators on DS9 are adequate we can forget I said anything.”

“I suppose there isn't much point in me playing coy at this point either,” Kira said. “I… I'm not _not_ interested. But I’m… I'm not exactly sure _how_ it is I feel. Not just about you but about… osol twists in general. And I know everyone says that we were all osol twist crazy in the Resistance! But- well. Things that seemed very clear to me a week ago when I wasn’t thinking about them too hard are suddenly a lot more complicated now that I’ve picked them up again. And I suppose I'm sort of in the process of untangling a lot right now. So… I don't know that I can give you any kind of a straightforward answer.”

“I understand,” Cretak said. She reached across the table and gave Kira's hand a squeeze. “All the same, your continued friendship would mean a great deal, regardless of the possibility of a more… tangled association or not. Things are not… uncomplicated for me at the present time either and a friend who is as trustworthy as I believe you to be would be of great value to me.”

Having it all out there in as direct and plain language as she could expect from a (Prophets help her) former Romulan politician and current Romulan diplomat was enormously relieving. Her stomach, so used these days to dropping out the bottom of her soles at a moment's notice, was downright calm save for a few stray butterflies. She really did not know where this thing between them was going. Somehow that felt more exciting than terrifying. 

She felt a sudden impulse to lean across the table and press a quick kiss against the corner of Cretak's mouth, which she resisted. 

“I think I would very much like to be your friend,” she smiled. “And I'll let you know where I end up on the osol twist question.”


End file.
